


Cold Days

by liketolaugh



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Allen's past, Angst, Gen, Horrible Things, Infants left alone, Starvation, street life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-12 18:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4490343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketolaugh/pseuds/liketolaugh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allen never says it, but he's always heard Crown Clown, inside his head. Because that might lead to questions about why Crown Clown was always there, and that would lead to questions about his early life. Before the Order. Before Mana. Before Red. (In a time when Allen is too young to take care of himself, Crown Clown cares for both of them.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Once, I Was Sad

Every day.

Every day, Jonathan walked through the same alley and paused at the same spot, staring down at the same, motionless, half-wrapped infant, and it stared up at him with wide grey eyes, and he considered taking it home.

The first few times, Jonathan nearly had taken it - him - it - home. But the arm. Its arm.

Oh, god. Just looking at the thing… It made his knees feel weak, the breath leaving his lungs, and he started feeling shaky and achy like he was coming off the flu, breath coming quick and frightened, and he just… he couldn't, he couldn't.

That arm was the work of the devil, and as time wore on, he feared the child attached to it more and more.

Because the child never died.

He'd passed through this way on the way home every day since as long as he'd been working, but he hadn't used to pause. The baby hadn't always been there, though sometimes it seemed like it had.

He entered that alley now, passed the long-empty beer barrel, past the pile of crates, and stopped right after the last one to turn and look at the small bundle nestled against the last wood crate, badly wrapped in a dirty white blanket, pitifully thin, and topped with a dust of dirt-red hair. Watching him with half-lidded silver-moon eyes, jaded and weary and sad. It opened its mouth and Jonathan flinched, cold swamping over him.

"Ooh," it cooed softly. "Oohh. Ahhhh. Bayy, bayy."

It had been there every day for the past four months. It hadn't ever moved. If he hadn't watched its eyes follow him, if he hadn't watched it breathe, heard it speak, he would have believed it dead.

"Dahhh, juuuuu…" the baby called, motionless, curled close in on itself. "Kaka pyoooh."

It would probably be better off.

Hell. Jonathan shuddered. It had snowed a few times - he'd almost broken and taken it then, devil arm or no devil arm - worst come to worst, he could always cut it off, he would rationalize, and then he would look at it and he would shudder and he couldn't ever do it - and he was sure it never got any food, he'd never seen anyone else around it, though he'd seen bruises mysteriously appear on what little of the thing… child... baby… thing he could see.

But the child never died.

He bent down and leaned close to it, inspecting it carefully, holding his breath. It just stared up at him, eyes tired but wider now, meeting his gaze point for point, and cooed quietly,

"Tooooh. Maa, daah. Noooh."

He shuddered and stood up abruptly, turning away to leave.

Devil child.

There was no other explanation. No, he wanted absolutely nothing to do with the little demon, and he never would.

But he knew he'd still come back the next day. He had to know if it had died yet.

Baby watched, tired and hurting, as the big man left. Why did he always leave? Why did he look at Baby like that? It made Baby sad. It was cold here. He felt weird and hollow. It hurt. And he only ever saw the man. The strange man and the bad men and Crown.

Why did the big man leave? Why did the bad men hurt him? Why did no one listen? Why? Why? Why? Whywhywhywhywhywhy...

Baby whimpered as the air grew colder and the place grew darker, and he squeezed his eyes shut, whimpering softly. It hurt. The cold hurt, the hollow hurt, the sad hurt, it hurt. It hurt. It was scary and it hurt. Baby started to cry.

"Shh. Shh, baby, shh, shh."

Baby opened its eyes again and looked up, sniffling and crying, face scrunched up.

Crown smiled softly down at Baby, and he reached down and picked Baby up, rocking him gently, side to side, murmuring soothingly.

"Shh, shh. It'll be alright, baby, you'll see. Someday it'll all be better. Someday it'll be warm, and you'll be able to walk and to talk, and someday you'll be able to find food and eat, and someday you'll be able to fight for yourself. It'll be alright, baby. Shh, shh."

Baby sniffled, staring up at Crown, tears still pouring down its thin face, still shaking with sobs that made him feel more tired and more hollow and more sad.

"Shh, shh. I love you, baby, and I'll take care of you. I'll take care of you while you're small and hungry, and when you're hurting or sad. Shh, shh. Don't you worry, baby. Someday you'll grow up, and then we'll work together, but for now, don't you worry. I'll take care of you, baby, I promise. Shh, shh."

Crown had white hair and a silver mask where the big man had eyes, and he wore a big white cloak, and he picked Allen up in black, warm-cold arms that were gentle and kind, and he spoke quietly and softly, and Baby sniffled, snuggling against Crown unhappily, whimpering and crying quietly still, but calming down now.

The world where Crown lived was black, but not scary black, like the world Outside right now. It was empty black and Baby didn't mind. Crown made it okay.

"Shh, baby," Crown continued, green glow coming from his arms and sinking into Baby. Baby slowly stopped crying as the hollow feeling went away and the cold went away and the sad went away. "Shh, shh, baby. It'll be alright. You'll see. You'll grow up, and you'll be big and strong, and we'll win this war, and then everything will be alright."

Baby had stopped crying now, but it was still sniffling, tears streaming down its face, whimpering softly. "Doooh. Taah, tahh, wahhhh. Ooohh."

"And someday," Crown continued, "you'll have people you love, and people who love you, and I'll always love you, too, baby. Shh, shh. Someday there'll be food, and you'll be warm in ways you never knew you could be. Shh. Someday there will be food, and warmth, and shelter, and people you'd give up all three of those things for. I promise, baby. Shh, shh… go to sleep, baby, I'll take care of you. Go to sleep."

Baby's eyes slowly closed, and Crown smiled softly, fondly, down at him as he fell asleep. He put Baby down, and the world dissolved, and so did Crown. Baby was once again curled against the crate, wrapped in a dirty white blanket, which wrapped tighter around him, the green glow fading away and the glow of the cross on his exposed crimson hand dying, too.

"It'll be alright, baby," Crown whispered as he released Baby back into the real world. "Shh, shh."

* * *

_**Once, I was sad.** _


	2. Once, I Was Scared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demon is three years old.

Pressed tight into a dark corner, hidden from his surroundings by nothing but a well-placed barrel, Demon felt a harsh, biting pain in his stomach and whimpered softly.

He pressed himself closer to the wall, apprehensive grey eyes on the mouth of the alley, ragged, too-big brown shirt rustling and brushing across torn-up pants, both stolen from a bin.

Demon was hungry, very hungry, but he didn't, didn't,  _didn't_  want to go out, no he didn't. Because humans hated Demon and Demon was afraid of humans, yes he was.

_Baby, you have to eat._

Voice liked Demon. Voice said he loved Demon, and Demon thought he loved Voice too, and he knew Voice would be sad if Demon stayed here.

So Demon had to go.

Demon hesitantly crept out from behind his barrel, flinching as the light hit him. What if humans saw Demon? Demon didn't want seen!

He nearly flinched back into the dark, but Voice said sharply,

_Find food._

Demon whimpered but obeyed, creeping out and peeking at the street.

There were humans there, but none looking, so Demon darted for the next alley over, and when he looked back, no one was glaring, and he took a deep breath.

 _That's it,_  Voice encouraged, soft and patient now.  _Steady, now. You can do it._

Yes, Demon liked Voice.

He did that three more times before he reached the food place, but then he let the hunger take him and dove for the bin, wriggling desperately.  _Food, food…_

_There!_

Demon wasn't sure whether that had been him or Voice or both, but his good hand closed around it just as a hand closed around the back of his shirt and yanked him up and he cried out helplessly.

_No!_

That was definitely Voice, panicked as it cried out with him, and Demon was thrown to the ground, crying out again as his head hit the ground hard enough to bring tears to his eyes and stars to his sight.

Then his eyes focused on the huge human above him, glaring down, and a whimper caught in his throat.

He'd been caught.

"You again!" the human spat. Demon's eyes widened in horror, and Voice went very quiet. "Get away from my fucking property, you little demon freak, and leave my rubbish bins alone!"

Demon whimpered and tried to scramble back, hiding his find in his overlarge shirt. He was met with a kick in the chest that sent him flying a few feet away, and he screamed, half in pain and half in terror.

"I sorry! I sorry!" he pleaded.

"Shut up!" snarled the human, kicking him again, silencing Demon.

 _Don't say sorry!_  Voice said fiercely.  _He should be sorry! You did nothing wrong!_

"Worthless monster!" the human snarled, kicking him with each insult. "Awful freak! Disgusting demon!"

Demon was crying, the pain and the yelling and the words hurting him, scaring him, he wanted it to stop.

"What in hell did your mother sleep with?" the human continued, only gearing up further. "She spread her legs for the first monster that would take her, you son of a bitch?"

There was a ringing in Demon's ears and he felt dizzy and he was scared and hurt and he wanted it to stop, stop, stop.

"Just die, you thrice-forsaken freak!"

Demon sobbed, and his arm burned, and he hurt and Voice said coldly,

_Enough. Baby, get up._

Demon tried to get up, tried to listen to Voice, but he hurt and he was dizzy and the human hit him and he fell down.

_Get up!_

Demon tried again. The human kicked him.

_GET UP!_

Demon screamed and lashed out and screamed and the human fell down with a harsh grunt and then Demon got up and took off at a stumbling, stuttering run, crying and scared.

Everyone hated Demon. Everyone hurt Demon. Demon mustn't be seen, mustn't be heard, humans hated, hated, hated Demon, Demon shouldn't, shouldn't be alive, no no no…

Humans cried out and flinched away as he ran by, gasping and sometimes screaming. Demon noticed, he always noticed, and he cried harder, gasping for breath, heart racing and breath fast and shallow.

Finally, Demon collapsed back into his corner, sobbing quietly, and Voice murmured soothingly in his ear,  _sh, sh…_

Finally, Demon's breath hitched and his crying slowed to a stop. He sat up and rubbed his tears away, biting his lip.

 _Do you still have your food?_  Voice asked quietly, sensing that Demon was okay now.

Demon felt inside his shirt and nodded, pulling it out and looking down.

It was an apple, half-there and fuzzy in places, but good to eat. Demon wouldn't have to go back out there, not today and not tomorrow.

 _Slowly,_  Voice cautioned, as Demon brought the apple to his mouth. He nodded and bit into it.  _Chew it carefully, baby._

Demon obeyed, concentrating on the fuzzy, mushy food in his mouth.

 _Swallow,_  Voice coached, strangely sad.

Demon swallowed with difficulty. It was getting easier, but he could still remember when it was hard. It was still kind of hard, because he didn't do it very often. It wasn't often that he needed food enough to risk going out.

Soon, the apple was gone, and Demon played with the seeds (which Voice had told him not to eat), laying them in the deep wrinkles of his demon hand and picking them back out to rearrange them.

 _Should I die?_  Demon asked Voice, not daring to speak aloud lest someone hear him.

 _No,_  Voice insisted, like it always did. _Never think that you deserve to die, baby. None of those people deserve life more than you do. Don't think that way. Please._

 _Okay,_  Demon replied quietly, and continued playing with the seeds.

* * *

_**Once, I was sad.** _

_**Once, I was scared.** _


	3. Once, I Was Angry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red is six years old.

Red was tense. Scrubbing at the dishes wasn't much of a distraction, not when he was hyperaware of his surroundings, of the nasty looks and the shudders as people passed by the tent and by him.

Red scowled at the plate in his hand. He could hear people clapping and cheering, and the ringmaster's voice rising above all of it. The performance was almost over.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all, not any of it.

Red hated that he was back here, doing odd jobs all day instead of doing something productive. He hated that he had to join the circus to gain even a little bit of security, and he hated that even that little bit was hard won. And he hated that those people, all those people, they got it for free.

It wasn't fair.

Red hated to admit it to himself, though, that he was in worse mood than usual. He'd gone back for something he'd dropped, right when the performance started.

He hadn't realized that it had started, obviously, and he'd turned around as soon as he did, but that wouldn't stop Cosimo. Nothing ever did.

 _Someday,_  Green whispered.  _Someday you'll be better than all of them and they'll never hurt you again._

Red exhaled, still scowling. Green had been with him for as long as he could remember; he was the only one, too. Red wouldn't give him up for the world, which is how he knew that someday, Green was gonna leave.

 _I'll never leave you,_  Green insisted.  _I'm not like them._

He sounded angry and sad and like everything that Red felt, only different.

"Yeah, I know," Red muttered, not bothering to keep his voice down. He was alone, after all.

 _And someday, you'll even believe me,_  Green insisted, voice hardening even more. If Green had a face, his teeth would be gritted. And then Red would flinch, because he did stupid things like that.

"Red, you little fucking brat!"

Red winced visibly and didn't move. Maybe if he pretended he hadn't heard, Cosimo would go away.

Ha. That hadn't worked in years.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder and jerked him roughly away, and he barely released the plate in time. He was thrown to the ground and glared death up at Cosimo, who glared death right back.

"You would have ruined the whole thing, you freak!" Cosimo roared at him, pretending to be furious when he was really just an asshole. "You know not to go in when the crowd's there, godammit!"

Red scowled at him. "Be better than your stupid face," he muttered spitefully.

Cosimo kicked him, hard, and Red grunted, face twisting slightly. "Don't talk, demon brat!" he snarled. "I don't know why the hell the ringmaster took your ungrateful ass in, but I'll make you learn your lesson, you son of a bitch!"

Red got angry, and he felt Green get angry right with him. "Shit, Cosimo," he snarled sarcastically, hunching over his torso protectively and curling around his cursed arm. "Didn't know you cared so fucking much!" He grunted as another kick landed in retaliation. "Hell, though, he probably considers a monster like me a saint compared to you, eh?"

And then he wasn't listening anymore, because Cosimo had grabbed his arm in a bruising grip and dragged him up and away, and he knew exactly where he was going.

Green knew it, too; he could feel that much.

 _You'll be fine, Red,_  Green promised him, quick and low.

"You think I don't know that?" Red muttered under his breath, hiding his fear.

He knew that, but it would still hurt like hell.

Soon enough, Cosimo shoved him to the ground and tied his wrists to the pole, and Red tensed.

"You know why I'm doing this, not that it matters," Cosimo told him, entirely too triumphant. "It's more than you deserve, you little demon."

_Crack._

Red hissed and flinched as the whip cracked across his back, but he gritted his teeth and refused to cry out.

He didn't need friends.

 _Don't listen to him,_  Green insisted.  _Listen to my voice. Listen to me._

"You're a monster, Red, and this is what monsters get when they don't do as they're told, do you understand?"

_Crack._

Red didn't need other people.

 _Red, you're going to be okay,_  Green insisted, as if he were more than a voice in Red's head.  _You'll be fine, don't listen to him, you'll be fine, you're fine._

"You stand there like you belong, but you never will, not with us humans. We will always be above you, you little monster."

_Crack._

It didn't matter. It didn't matter that everyone hated Red, because Red didn't need friends anyway.

 _You'll be alright, you'll find people, you'll get out of here, this is temporary, only temporary,_  Green told him, fast and frantic and anxious like only Green got.

"We're better than you. We'll always be better than you, and don't you even consider thinking otherwise. Because this, this is what you get, Red. This is what you'll always get."

_Crack._

Pained tears started to leak out of Red's eyes, though they were squeezed shut.

He didn't need other people because he had Green, and that was all he needed and more than he deserved besides.

 _No!_  Green half-snarled, sounding as frightened as he was angry.  _You're better than them! You always have been and you always will be! DON'T YOU DARE LISTEN TO HIM, RED!_

"No one will ever care for you. If you think they could you're stupid - so you probably do, don't you? Ha! You're a monster, Red. A freak of nature, a demon, something that ought to be exorcised out of this world."

_Crack. Crack._

Against his will, Red let out a soft whine, face screwed up in pain, half hunched over, tied hands trembling.

It hurt. People hurt. Red hated, hated, hated people, because people hated him, always had and always would, and he hadn't ever seen anything to the contrary, no matter what Green told him.

 _You can take this, Red, I know you can take this, you've been through so much and you don't deserve this but you can take this, Red. I believe in you._  Green's voice was frantic again, frantic and worried and laced with not-quite-hidden rage.

That was nice. Red didn't exactly believe in himself, though, so it didn't mean much to him.

"You're stupid. You're worthless. You're a goddamn freak, is what you are, and no one wants you here. No one wants you anywhere."

_Crack. Crack._

Tears were streaming down his face now, but he didn't lift his head, so Cosimo didn't see, and Red hated, hated, hated humans.

_I'm sorry, Red._

Green sounded so sad. It almost made Red feel bad.

Then the whip came down again and the thought was wiped from his mind.

* * *

**_Once, I was sad._ **

**_Once, I was scared._ **

**_Once, I was angry._ **


	4. I Didn't Understand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allen is nine years old.

Allen knew as soon as he woke up that Mana was having a bad day.

The grown man was stumbling around the room, knocking things over and grinning like a loon (which he was), and when he saw Allen open his eyes, he grinned cheerfully and said, "Good morning, Neah!"

_My name is Allen!_

Allen's heart sank and he closed his eyes, turning his head away and biting his lip.

Mana had these days, sometimes, when he wasn't all there. It didn't happen very often, not at all, but Allen  _hated_  it.

That didn't stop it from happening, of course.

 _You can do this, Allen,_  Green encouraged him.  _Just go over what you need to do today. He should be fine by tomorrow, don't forget._

Allen acknowledged this silently and thought.

Okay. So they wouldn't be able to move on to the next town that day, which meant they'd be spending another night at this inn. If Mana didn't wake up in time he'd have to arrange it himself, which wasn't too hard. He should probably do it early, though, just in case.

He could get food from the innkeeper, she was sort of nice, and he'd talk to her about staying another night then. He'd have to stay in the room as much as possible, too, to keep the stupid man-child out of trouble. He wouldn't cry, because that was fucking stupid.

And, most importantly, Mana  _could not_  see Allen's left arm.

"Neah? Is something wrong?"

Allen opened his eyes again and flinched away harshly when he found Mana's concerned eyes inches from his own.

 _Don't say anything!_  Green warned sharply.

He bit back a scowl and his reflexive acerbic response, knowing from experience that it wouldn't be received well.

"Morning, Mana," he mumbled instead, ignoring the question and using his good arm to push himself up.

"Sleepy, huh, Neah?" Mana laughed, withdrawing as he apparently decided that 'Neah' was fine. Allen's eyes burned and he scrubbed at them angrily, scowling to himself.

After a moment, he took a deep breath and sat up, dropping his hand again. "'M fine," he muttered. "Where're your clothes?"

Mana pouted. "I can't find them," he announced unhappily. Then he brightened. "Hey, Neah, wanna help me find them?"

Allen's fist clenched, crumpling the blanket in his grasp.  _My name is Allen!_  he wanted to scream.  _My name is Allen, you stupid clown, you gave me that name! Can't you remember that?_

 _It's okay,_  Green soothed, voice gentle.  _He's not himself, Allen. You know that._

Hearing his name calmed Allen down a little, but not much.

It was enough to let him plaster on a fake smile that hurt his cheeks and bounce up, like he knew Mana expected him to. And he didn't, didn't, didn't want to make waves on days like this, because it never ended well.

"Sure, Mana," he chirped in a chipper voice that made him want to cringe. "Sounds like fun!"

Mana beamed. "Yeah!"

Allen found Mana's clothes exactly where he expected to, inside his suitcase, and presented them to Mana with another cheek-aching, stupid-ass smile and he felt lonely, lonely, lonely and fake, fake, fucking  _fake._

"Good job, Neah!" Mana enthused, taking them with a smile.

Allen's own smile dropped visibly; thankfully, Mana had already turned away, heading to the bathroom to change.

 _It's okay, Allen,_  Green encouraged.  _You're doing fine. Just keep going. He'll be better soon._

Allen slumped, scowling at the ground in frustration, angry at everything, which was a pretty familiar feeling.

Yeah, he knew that, but he still hated these kinds of days, not least because it made him feel lost and helpless, which was an awful but familiar feeling.

Soon enough, Mana returned, and Allen stood up with a serious look, moving to tug Mana over to the bed and sit him down.

Irritatingly, Mana resisted.

"Ne _-ah,_  I wanna play," he whined, pouting at Allen.

Allen scowled at him before he remembered to cover it up with a fake kind-stern look. "You're sick," he told him, like he had so many times before. "You need to stay here, 'kay? Imma get you food."

 _No profanities,_  he reminded himself harshly.  _No profanities and no insults and nothing but stupid cutesy child-speak._

...Who was Neah, anyway?

Mana laughed at him. It happened a lot and Allen always hated it, but usually it was the warm kind of  _are-you-serious_  and  _stop-that-you're-not-funny_  that he'd come to associate with Mana. This was too strange and childish and off for that, though. "You're silly, Neah," he said fondly, with a tone he often took to Allen. "Okay, I'll wait here if it makes you happy. Alright?"

"Good," Allen said firmly,  _not_  shaking. He turned away and marched toward the door, opened it, went through, and nearly slammed it shut, leaning against it with a scowl at nothing.

 _Go talk to the innkeeper,_  Green said softly, after a few moments of Allen not moving.  _She likes Mana, she'll understand._

 _If you're sure,_  Allen replied reluctantly, and he pushed himself up and moved purposefully and somewhat bad-temperedly toward where he knew Mrs. Jones would be.

He found her easily enough and her eyes softened upon hearing his explanation; for reasons he couldn't possibly comprehend, she seemed fond of him.

 _She thinks you're cute,_  Green informed him, with a strange fondness.

 _Yeah, okay,_  Allen snorted in reply, disbelieving.

"Of course you can stay another night," Mrs. Jones assured him earnestly. "I don't mind in the least, don't worry about it, hun. Do you need anything?"

Allen glanced up reluctantly and nodded. "Yeah." He kicked the floorboards, scowling at them, arms crossed. "Told Mana he was sick so he'd stay in the room." He scowled harder. "'E gets up to all sorts o' trouble if I leave 'im alone." Oops. Slipping again. Mana scolded him when he did that. "Anyway, can you make something like he was?"

"Some soup?" Mrs. Jones asked. Allen shrugged. She smiled comfortingly. "Of course, hun. Just give me a minute."

It took more than a minute, obviously, but Mrs. Jones kept up a conversation the entire time while he waited, half-dreading going back upstairs.

Finally, she presented him with a bowl of steaming hot soup.

"Be careful, sweetie, and take care of your papa, alright?" she told him, brown eyes soft. "Let me know if you need anything."

Allen nodded. "Thanks," he mumbled halfheartedly, even though he didn't intend for a moment to talk to her again. He turned and headed back upstairs, now with the bowl of soup.

 _That's it,_  Green murmured; he always talked more on bad days. Silently, Allen was grateful for it - more than anything else, Green had always been there.  _You're doing great, Allen. Now just go and you can look after him and distract him from doing anything, and you'll both be fine._

Allen nodded halfheartedly to himself and then tasted blood as he tripped on the steps and nearly overbalanced, biting his tongue hard. Hot soup sloshed onto his good hand and he yelped, clamping his jaw shut right after.

 _Steady!_  Green said quickly, anxious again.

Allen waited one moment, then two, and then opened his eyes again, mouth set in a scowl and grey eyes dark, and moved on, going the rest of the way without another false step.

When he opened the door, awkwardly shouldering it open, Mana was still waiting patiently on the bed, playing boredly with the covers. He brightened on seeing Allen.

"Neah! You're back!"

Figures.

"Soup," Allen announced, bringing back that stupid grin and acting proud.

"I'm fine, you know," Mana chucked, taking the soup anyway. Allen pointedly did  _not_  wince as fingers brushed uncaringly over his now-burned hand. "But thanks, Neah."

"It's hot," Allen warned him, before he could take a bite. Mana nodded and blew on it, an expression of comical concentration on his face.

 _Go take care of your hand,_  Green murmured, and Allen waved to Mana cheerfully before going and hurrying into the bathroom.

Under Green's guidance, Allen ran his hand under a stream of cold water until the burning eased, and then carefully spread some of the burn cream from their bag (Allen was accident prone) with his bad hand, and then put the oven mitt back on, straightening up. He'd like to wrap it, too, to keep the cream on better or something (Allen wasn't sure why he was supposed to do that) but he couldn't move his other hand well enough.

When he returned to the room, his eyes widened and a silent snarl ripped across his face, irritation in every line of his body.

Mana had abandoned his half eaten soup and opened the window, and was now leaning  _way too fucking far out,_  the  _stupid idiot._

"Mana!" Allen snapped harshly, fist clenching.

Mana withdrew quickly, looking guilty, and looked back to Allen, forlorn. "Sorry, Neah," he muttered, abashed.

Honestly.

"You don't take care of yourself," Allen snarled, not appeased. "You  _stupid idiot."_

 _Allen,_  Green warned.

Mana, sure enough, flared up instantly, scowling childishly. "You're not in charge of me, Neah!" he huffed, arms crossing. "I  _am_  older than you, you know!"

"That doesn't change the fact that you're obviously stupid!" Allen snapped back, well beyond self-control now, taking a step forward.

"You're stupid!" Mana countered, scowling right back.

 _"I'm_  stupid? I'm not trying to kill myself!"

"No, you're just bossing me around, Neah!"

Allen burst.

 _"I'm not Neah!_  Can't you see that, you stupid?" he screamed, tears pricking at his eyes. "I'm not Neah! I never was!"

Mana's eyes lit in anger and fear, and before Allen could react, he'd drawn his hand back, and then Allen's eyes widened and Mana hit him, hard on the cheek.  _"Stop lying to me, Neah! Stop saying those things!"_

Allen fell to the ground, and Mana froze instantly. Allen didn't look at him, didn't say a word, and for a long moment, there was silence.

Then Mana dropped beside him, looking contrite. "I'm sorry, Neah. I'm sorry for hitting you."

"'S fine," Allen muttered resentfully, still not looking up.

"Hey. What's that?"

Allen glanced up, and stiffened when he saw Mana pointing at his oven mitt.

"It's nothing," he snapped reflexively.

_Allen, move!_

Allen didn't react to Green's warning in time, because Mana's eyes had lit with mischief and before he knew it, he'd reached for the glove and pulled it off, revealing wrinkled, blood-red flesh and a green-glass cross.

For the second time in less than five minutes, Mana froze. Allen froze, too, grey eyes wide with fear.

Then Mana's face twisted in horrified terror, and he started to scream.

Allen didn't need any prompting from Green this time; he scrambled up and lunged for the bathroom door, and he locked it and slumped against it and listened to Mana screaming.

 _I-it's okay, Allen,_  Green said after a moment, clearly almost as shaken as Allen himself.  _It'll pass. It always does._

"...Yeah."

But he knew he'd be in there for hours.

* * *

**_Once, I was sad._ **

**_Once, I was scared._ **

**_Once, I was angry._ **

**_I didn't understand._ **


	5. Now I Do, But I Wish I Didn't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He is ten years old.

_Allen._

Mana was dead. He was dead, he was dead twice over, he'd screamed. He'd been crying, he'd been crying and it hurt him and  _he'd_  hurt him. He'd hurt him, he was sorry, he was sorry, he was sorry.

_Allen, please, I'm sorry._

He was bad, he was bad, he was bad, he was sorry, he was bad… He'd never wanted to hurt Mana, not really, not Mana, never Mana… No, no, no, no, no… Bad, bad, bad, bad,  _bad..._

_Allen, please, wake up._

He was a monster. He was a monster and he always had been, and everyone had known it but him. Even Mana, Mana had known, Mana had known and he'd kept him and then he  _hurt_  him.

But he'd never wanted this, never ever wanted this, he'd been so mean to Mana but he'd  _never_  wanted this, because Mana had always been so much more than he'd deserved. He was nothing but a monster, he should be thrown out, and this time he'd just let himself die. He should have done that a long time ago.

He should die, he wanted to die, he was sorry, he was sorry.

_Allen, baby, stop. Stop it._

It hurt. Everything hurt. Everything hurt and he welcomed it, he deserved it, he wanted it to hurt more and then he wanted to stop hurting forever, because  _it all hurt so much_  and he was  _so sorry._

_Stop it. Stop thinking that way. Allen, stop it, you can't do this to yourself._

He wanted to die. Why wouldn't he just  _die_  already, it had been coming on all his life, why wouldn't he just… wouldn't he just… Please. He just wanted to die. No one had a problem with it before, why couldn't he just  _die already?_

Creak.

"Any change?"

"None at all. The brat still won't react."

"Poor kid. Can you do anything for him, Mother?"

"No. He's the only one who can pull himself out of this hole."

"I made soup for him. Do you think he can eat it"

"Give it here. I'll fucking feed it to him, alright? Jesus, this damn…"

"He's just a child, Cross. A child who's had a very bad shock."

"It's been  _weeks."_

"And it might yet be weeks more. We'll have to see."

"Hey, kid, open your mouth."

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no-

_Open your mouth, Allen._

No no no no no no no…

_Allen. Open your mouth._

Nononononono…

_Open your mouth!_

He opened his mouth. Smooth metal slid in, with hot soup, which was dumped unceremoniously inside.

_Swallow. ...Swallow! Now, Allen!_

He swallowed.

"This  _kid._  Why the hell does it always take so long for him to swallow?"

"Patience, Cross. Baba and I will be in the living room if you need anything."

"Yeah, yeah."

Kaclunk.

Metal, soup, swallow. Metal, soup, swallow. Metal, soup, swallow.

Clunk.

No no no no no… He just wanted to die, just let him die,  _just let him die,_  it hurt, it hurt, please… He didn't want it, he didn't want it… Let him die…

_Allen, it'll be alright. You'll be alright, I promise. I promise. Please just listen to me. You'll be okay. Allen, you'll be okay._

He was a monster, he was evil, he'd hurt Mana, he'd made Mana cry, he killed Mana. He was bad, he was bad. He was a demon, they all said so, he should  _die,_  they should let him die because he was a  _demon_  and a  _monster…_

_Allen, baby, please. Just listen. Mana loved you. He said so, remember? Mana loved you and I love you and we don't want you to die. Mana wouldn't want you to die. I don't want you to die._

"Kid."

No, no, Mana hated him, he'd hurt him, he'd hurt him… He was sorry, he was so so sorry...

"Listen to your Innocence, understand? If it was ever gonna talk to you, it's probably talking to you now, right? So listen to it. Trust me, it's looking out for you. God knows you aren't."

He was sorry, he was sorry… He was sorry he was a demon, he was sorry he was bad...

_Baby. Baby, it's alright, you're alright, it's alright. You're okay. You're okay._

"Fuck, I can't even imagine what you're thinking. But you've gotta wake up sometime, kid. You can't stay like this forever, you know."

Creak. Kaclunk.

_Allen, you'll get through this. I won't let you die._

Please.

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I've put you through so much, but I won't let you die. Not you. Not my accommodator. Not ever._

Please.

_No. Allen, you've taken a lot. You've gotten so strong, Allen. You can beat this. I know you can. You just have to try._

He didn't want it. He didn't want it. He wanted to die. It hurt too much. He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't take it anymore.

_I'm sorry, Allen. You have to get through this. I won't let you do anything else._

Please.

_I'm sorry._

* * *

**_Once, I was sad._ **

**_Once, I was scared._ **

**_Once, I was angry._ **

**_I didn't understand._ **

**_Now I do, but I wish I didn't._ **


	6. It Doesn't Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allen Walker is twelve years old.

It was hard to cheat with the oven mitt on, so when he was playing poker, he only ever wore the small wrap Master had given him.

Gratifyingly, it was usually too dark to make out more than the unnatural color, and pretty quickly his rivals had much bigger things to worry about anyway.

Allen offered the table a small, cute smile, stomach twisting in disgust, and then laid down his hand, restrained triumph drowning out the bad feeling.

"Four of a kind, tens high."

Several of them cursed, but it wasn't truly angry. Allen's smile brightened and he closed his eyes, tilting his head cutely.

Normally, Allen wasn't lucky enough to be able to charm the kind of people Cross dumped on him, but this group had already been half-drunk when he arrived, and he'd honed his skills since Mana.

It was almost pathetic how easy it was.

"That's it, kid," one guy said, laying down his cards - three of a kind, sevens - and shaking his head. "You're free to go, I guess. Now scram, brat."

Allen hopped to his feet, still smiling, and bowed slightly.

"Thank you very much, mister," he said politely, stomach churning.

He turned and scurried off, eager to leave the shady bar, and started the long walk to the brothel.

_Well done, Allen,_  Innocence said, amused.  _But you didn't get any extra._

Allen frowned slightly in discontent. "I know. They were just too smart, I guess."

_You'll be fine,_  Innocence amended quickly, warm and reassuring.  _Just get back; it's getting dark._

"Yeah," Allen replied vaguely, slipping his over mitt back on. He hurried along, not afraid of the darkness beginning to cloak the city. The curse on his eye would reveal any akuma, and humans weren't a threat to him, not anymore.

_Not to your body,_  Innocence corrected softly, sobered.

Allen smiled lightly, practiced until it was perfect. "I'm fine."

_You don't need to lie to me, Allen._

Allen just kept smiling.

Yes, he did. It didn't matter that it made him sick. It didn't matter that he hated how fake it all was. If he dropped it now - and he didn't think he could - someone might see what a monster he was, and then Mana would be ashamed.

He'd lie to his Innocence and lie to himself until he, too, believed that he was not a monster. And then maybe Mana could believe him, too.

_Allen…_

Allen didn't hear the ache in Innocence's voice, too distracted as he finally reached the house of debauchery where he and his master were staying.

He smiled at the bouncer and added a cheerful wave for emphasis. The man nodded curtly back, recognizing him, but he wasn't fooling Allen - he'd seen the man's lips twitch, and it made the sickness in his stomach go away a little.

That was one thing he'd found a completely genuine appreciation for: making people smile.

_There are worse pastimes,_  Innocence smiled.

Allen's smile softened a little and he shrugged. "I guess so," he admitted, with a small laugh.

He could hear Innocence's smile drop and sighed regretfully - even if he could someday fool himself, he didn't think he'd ever be able to fool Green.

He wasn't sure if he liked that or hated it.

Allen reached the door to his and Cross' room and paused for a moment to listen carefully. Hearing only their voices, rising and falling in the cadence of speech, he deemed it safe and knocked on the door.

Their voices paused, and then Cross snorted. "Come in, stupid apprentice."

Allen sighed and pushed the door open, peeking in hesitantly.

Ah. The same one as yesterday. That was nice.

He smiled warmly. "Hello, Miss Caroline."

Caroline gave him a warm smile as well. "Good evening, Allen. Did you have a good day?"

Allen smiled brightly and nodded. "Yes! I met a lot of people and I got a lot done, and the man who runs the store gave me a piece of candy." That was simplifying it quite a lot, but she didn't need to know the details.

Cross snorted and rolled his eyes. He never believed Allen; it was a source of endless frustration for the cursed boy.

"Oh, be nice, Cross," Caroline sighed, smiling at Cross. Cross rolled his eyes again and sat back. Allen resisted the urge to laugh; that wasn't nice.

Allen shuffled over to them, 'hiding' a smile, and as soon as he was within reach, Caroline reached out and ruffled his hair. Allen forced himself not to cringe away and instead peeked up at her with a shy smile. She 'aw'ed.

"You're so cute!" she cooed. He tried not to cringe - he'd hated that even when it was him being called cute - and blushed, shuffling awkwardly. "Especially when you're embarrassed! Oh, I just want to dress you up like a little doll!"

Allen froze and stole a glance up at Cross and - yep, that was that evil gleam in his eye.

"Well, why not?" he rumbled, smirking at Allen behind Caroline's back. "Go ahead. He's yours."

"Nooo!" Allen whined, and okay, that was the worst one today. Innocence coughed, trying to hide a laugh.

Caroline went to the innkeeper and acquired dresses, which the woman had apparently accumulated from people leaving things behind. Within twenty minutes she was back and Allen had to stop scowling at Cross. (Maybe that was why Cross never believed him.)

Allen resigned himself to being obedient and took the pretty baby blue dress from Caroline. She beamed at him and he shuffled into the bathroom.

"Don't laugh," he muttered to his Innocence, who ignored him, chuckling gleefully.

He donned the dress, slipping it over his head, and then tugged down the sleeve slightly so that it hid his arm completely.

"This is so embarrassing," he whined to the air.

_Don't worry, Allen, it's cute,_  Innocence assured him, stifling snickers.

"You're not helping!"

"Allen?" Caroline knocked on the door. "Sweetie, I want to see. Please?"

He sighed resignedly and pushed open the door, and Cross roared with laughter.

_Don't scowl, don't scowl,_  he reminded himself, looking at the floor and blushing with mortification.  _Don't let her see you scowl._

"Aww!" Caroline crooned, dropping down in front of him and tugging at his cheek adoringly. "You're even more adorable than I thought you'd be, Allen!"

Allen didn't answer, wallowing in embarrassment. There was a time when he never would have let this happen. But he had to. He had to. Mana would have let her. Mana would have laughed it off, too, but he couldn't quite do that yet.

Cross' roaring laughter slowed to hearty chuckles. "I'll say," he snickered.

"Oh, but this glove…"

Of course, Mana had never been the monster he was.

He stiffened and looked up at her, wide-eyed, completely genuine fright in his eyes. She was frowning down at his oven mitt, brow furrowed.

"It doesn't go with the dress at all, it's ruining the whole thing," she sighed. Then she smiled. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but it'll have to go."

She reached for it, and Allen scrambled back, nearly falling over in his haste. Cross lost the battle and was laughing loudly again - they could probably hear him outside in the hall.

"No! Stop!" he pleaded, turning and running as she smiled in amusement and gave chase. He had no idea who had said that, him or Mana, sometimes there was no way of telling.

His Innocence was conspicuously silent, possibly struck dumb by the suddenness of the change in mood, so there was no help from that angle. That was fine. Allen didn't need-  _No!_  Bad Allen! _Bad Allen!_

His distraction cost him; Caroline, playful, kind, adoring Caroline, caught his glove and pulled it off, and Allen tumbled over as he was unbalanced and fell down. Then, slowly, he looked up to meet Caroline's frozen face with his own wide silver eyes.

Cross' laughter grew in volume, the man slapping his knee and using it to support himself in his mirth.

Then Caroline's face twisted in a painfully familiar expression of horror. "Oh, god," she whispered. "Christ, have mercy!"

_Allen, run!_  Innocence urged, instincts as thoroughly ingrained into him as they were into Allen.

Innocence's voice brought him out of his stupor. He rolled with a gasp, but couldn't quite miss the frightened kick the just clipped his ribcage. Allen didn't let that stop him, scrambling up and darting to the first place he could think of - the bathroom.

He slammed the door shut behind him and locked it, then went and curled up against the wall, trying not to hyperventilate.

His side ached. It was a familiar feeling; he focused on it, resting his forehead on his knees.

"I'm sorry, Green," he whispered, face screwed up, biting his lip. "I didn't try hard enough."

_It's not your fault,_  Innocence replied softly, a tone as familiar - more so - than his own.  _You don't need to try at all. You shouldn't have to hide._

"I didn't try hard enough," he repeated, as if he hadn't heard his Innocence at all. "She knew as soon as she saw it. She knew."

_You're not a monster. She just doesn't understand, Allen. None of them do._

But that couldn't possibly be true. It always happened - kind people, nice people, they always saw Allen's hand and then they suddenly weren't nice at all. And there had to be a reason for that. There had to be.

Allen just had to try harder. He had to keep trying, until he could fool people into thinking he wasn't a monster even after they saw his hand.

He had to try harder.

_You're trying so hard,_  Innocence told him, switching tactics.  _You'll get it, Allen. I… I promise._

"You promise?" Allen whispered.

_I promise._

If Innocence said he could, then Allen could do it. He could push through the disgust and the nausea, and the hatred for what he's making himself become, and he could become something that wasn't a monster, that people could smile at, could like.

He could and he would.

"Okay."

He could hear Caroline's terrified sobbing through the door; Cross' voice was raised, and he wasn't laughing anymore, not even close. Allen listened as they talked back and forth, voices rising steadily. He made out 'demon' and 'monster' and 'freak' several times over, and closed his eyes, drinking in every word, every insult with careful, self-destructive attention.

As soon as he realized what he was doing, Allen's Innocence started to mutter imprecations about Caroline, attempting to drown out her words. Allen smiled softly and sadly into his legs, forehead still on his knees.

Finally, Caroline fled, the door slamming behind her. Allen would probably be paying for that, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care.

Then Cross started banging on the door. "Idiot apprentice! Get the hell out here or I'll break the door down and drag you out!"

He continued like that for a minute or so before Allen finally sighed, stood up, and unlocked the door. The banging stopped and he opened it, just part of the way, in case he needed to close it in a hurry.

But Cross didn't quite look angry. No, he was looking down at Allen with a strange look on his face, one Allen couldn't quite read.

He got enough to understand how to respond, though, and he smiled - sad, because he couldn't quite stomp that out quickly enough.

"It's okay, Master. I'm used to it."

He wanted to scream, but he was used to that, too.

* * *

**_Once, I was sad._ **

**_Once, I was scared._ **

**_Once, I was angry._ **

**_I didn't understand._ **

**_Now I do, but I wish I didn't._ **

**_It doesn't stop._ **


	7. Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ???

It was dark. He couldn't see. Or there was nothing there. Darker than night, darker than a locked room, darker than solitude.

It was silent, like nothingness. There was no noise, not even his heartbeat, not the whisper of wind or the rasp of his breath.

He was alone. He was alone, he was alone, he was alone, no no no, he hated being alone, no-

He couldn't breathe. There was no air. It hurt. He was choking. He was suffocating. His chest was tight, he couldn't breathe, it hurt. His face twisted in pain and his mouth opened, begging for breath.

He was drowning. He was drowning in the dark and the silence and he couldn't breathe. He couldn't remember his name. He couldn't think. He was alone. How was he alone? He was never alone, but he was alone, why? Why?

His eyes closed and his mouth opened and he screamed, but there was no sound, there was no one to hear him and there was no sound and maybe he had no body but he still screamed.

_Please! Please, where are you? Where did you go?_

He couldn't think. He was drowning. He didn't know his name. Who was he? Who was he? It hurt. He couldn't breathe. The darkness was suffocating him, like water, like quicksand, like dark earth six feet beneath the ground. There was nothing there, no sound, no light, no one and nothing and he was nowhere and he had no name and he was drowning in nothing.

_Where are you? Why did you leave? Why did you leave?_

He reached out but touched nothing, he couldn't see his hand in front of his face, his eyes were wide now but it made no difference because there was no light and nothing to see, and he couldn't hear anything, he was alone.

Who was he? What was going on? Why was the darkness tightening around him, strangling him, seeping down his throat and drowning him? Why didn't he have a name, why couldn't he remember anything, why was he alone, who was Neah…?

He choked. He choked and he coughed and he couldn't breathe, his chest hurt, he needed to breathe, he needed to breathe, please. He was drowning. He was going to vanish, he was drowning, he was going to disappear and be gone forever, like parents, like friends.

He was scared. Scared like trembling in the cold, scared like the crack of a whip and hands tied to a pole, scared like "leave, monster, get out of my sight", like a glove off his hand, like silence and screaming. There was nothing and no one and he was no one and he didn't understand, he couldn't remember. No, he wasn't scared. He was terrified. He was terrified because he was no one and there was nothing and he was nothing and the darkness closed around him and suffocated him and he was all alone.

_Why did you leave me here?_

...Who was Neah?

Was he Neah? Was his name Neah? He thought that that, finding out his name, would be comforting, but no, he was terrified. No. No, he wasn't Neah, he didn't want to be Neah, he wasn't Neah, he wasn't Neah-

_Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it!_

He screamed again. The sound was lost in the nothingness and he felt like crying, but he could find no tears and maybe he had no eyes. He wanted it to stop, he needed to stop, he wasn't Neah, he wasn't Neah, don't call him Neah!

He thrashed. What was his name, what was his name? He wasn't Neah, he wasn't Neah, please, stop it! He screamed and his throat hurt but there was still no sound, still no light, still nothing and no one, like alleyways, like "Good morning, Neah!", like a mother's turned back.

He couldn't move anymore and he trembled, he felt tears on his face and he shook but he had no eyes and no face and no voice and he screamed, he was losing, stop it! Don't call him Neah! He wasn't Neah!

He screamed and he choked and his face was wet, he was thrashing again even though he could barely move. He was falling apart, he was disappearing, he was choking, dying, vanishing, no no no nononononono-

_-len. Allen, please._

Who was Allen? Was he Allen? He felt scared. But there was a voice. He didn't want to be alone. Who was the voice? It felt familiar. It felt like warmth and comfort and "It's okay, you'll be okay, it's alright, sh, sh".

_Allen, baby, please. Listen! Listen to me! Allen!_

_I hear you, I hear you!_

He wanted to scream it, so he did, he arched and screamed it, crying and shaking. But he took the voice and he clung to it, who was it? It knew who he was. He felt like it knew who he was, too.

He wasn't disappearing - he could feel himself, he was there, he was there, he wasn't nothing, the voice knew who he was, so he had to be something.

_Allen, don't give up! Don't you dare give up! Please, Allen! Don't forget!_

Don't forget? Don't forget… What?

He still couldn't breathe, but it didn't seem to matter as much now. He trembled, but he didn't thrash. And he felt hands on his shoulders, on his arms and legs, holding him. His chest shook, straining. He didn't want to die, he didn't want to die, no no no.

_Don't forget everything, Allen! Just remember! You're not Neah! So who are you, Allen? WHO ARE YOU?_

Who… who was he?

He didn't know. That was his problem. He was alone and it was dark and it was silent- but it wasn't silent anymore, was it? And he thought that… he thought that he could see green. And he wasn't alone anymore, there was the voice.

So he tried to remember. Who was he?

But he didn't have a name. He had no name, but - called him Baby. Was he Baby?

No. No, he was called 'Demon'. Demon and freak and monster, son of a bitch and bastard. Was he Demon?

But - had called him Red before. And lots of people called him Red when they didn't say those other things. Was he Red?

No. No. No, no, no, no- he was Allen.

He was Allen, he was Allen, his name was Allen, he was Allen. He was Allen. He was Allen!

He gasped and he could breathe, he wasn't Neah, his name wasn't Neah, and it wasn't Baby or Demon or Red, he was Allen, he was Allen, he had a name and he was someone and-

_Let me go!_

He blinked and he strained and the green light grew, and someone screamed in anger and he woke up.

He woke up and stared up with wide silver eyes. After the dark and the silence and the nothing, the dim light of the moon was too bright, the nighttime sounds of the city too loud, too overwhelming, but he drank it in and shuddered, eyes filling with tears.

He shifted his gaze and saw Kanda staring down at him with dark navy eyes, a slight scowl twisting his face and failing to hide his worry, holding his arms down, scratches healing quickly.

Allen stared at him for a moment, almost blank, feeling wrung out and strained and ready to break down and cry, and then a slight movement attracted his attention and he shifted his gaze again.

Link was farther back, a frown on his face, holding down his legs with a firm grip, eyes unreadable. Allen let out a shuddering breath and let his head fall back, staring at the ceiling, unable to muster up the energy to say a word, to try and reassure them like Mana would, to try and smile and laugh it off. He should, he really should, but...

For a long moment, there was silence, deep and consuming, and Allen's breath hitched-

No no no no no-

And then Johnny's head appeared above his face, eyes concerned through thick glasses.

"Allen?" he asked hesitantly, looking at once concerned and afraid. "Are you alright?"

Allen stared at him for a long moment, and then he squeezed his eyes shut and his breath hitched again, for a very different reason.

 _It's okay, Allen,_  Crown Clown said softly, subdued.  _It's okay to cry._

And Allen did.

* * *

**_Once, I was sad._ **

**_Once, I was scared._ **

**_Once, I was angry._ **

**_I didn't understand._ **

**_Now I do, but I wish I didn't._ **

**_It doesn't stop._ **

**_Please stop. Please._ **


End file.
